


Helmetless

by Saturn_the_Almighty



Series: He Looks Good In Red [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cute, Flowers, Gen, Hair Braiding, He Looks Good In Red, IT'S SO SWEET, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Mild Language, Red Team Locus, Sarcus, Stargazing, cavity-inducing, post s15, red team - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Saturn_the_Almighty
Summary: The first time Locus and Sarge see each other helmetless and a few other snapshots from Locus' new life with the Reds.





	Helmetless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sxpaiscia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxpaiscia/gifts).



> This takes place in the same timeline as my other fic 'Unaffiliated' and it is referenced in this. I suggest you read that first.

Locus was tired of them. He was tired of the constant pleas. The constant outcries of 'We need to find them' or 'they might be hurt'. Sure, the sim troopers cared about their teammates. That much was painfully obvious. But having to hear about their plans for a rescue mission _every single day_  was starting to get on his nerves. And it surprised him how much he was annoyed by it, considering he had spent a good part of his life dealing with Felix.

Now, Locus was stuck at a table in the mess hall with people he didn't care about. And the sim troopers were sitting a few tables away with a their datapads on the table in front of them. Locus ignored whatever inane conversation the Feds were having at his table and chose to observe the sim troopers from afar.

There was Agent Washington. He, surprisingly, had his helmet off. It was tucked under one arm while he pored over a datapad. Locus could hear the low tones of his voice even over all the noise in the mess hall. There was Donut, trying to enjoy his meal while still getting involved in the planning. There was Lopez pointedly ignoring it all.

And there was Sarge. The leader. The loud, proud Reddest of all Reds. He was still wearing his helmet unlike all the rest. He slammed his fist down on the table and made Donut jump. Locus couldn't hear him from where he sat. He couldn't read his lips. But there was anger in his movements. He gestured wildly to the datapads, as if accusing _them_  of taking his team. Sarge stood up straight, his back rigid with rage and his arms clamped at his sides as Agent Washington raised his voice and pointed an accusatory finger at one of the holographic maps projected over the table.

Sarge tore his arms away from his sides and angrily unsealed his helmet. He tossed it aside and didn't flinch when it hit the concrete floor with a sickening _crack_.

Locus stared. He hadn't seen Sarge's face before.

He looked old. Maybe not as old as everyone made him out to be, but there were creases in his forehead from frowning too much. There was dirt and grime cemented in his pores and his eyes screamed authority. He looked tired. Tired of caring so much. Tired of always needing something go up against. But even as tired as he looked, he kept on leading. Because his men needed someone to follow.

Sarge had wiry salt and pepper hair. It hadn't been cut in a long time and had begun to stray from its formerly neat buzz cut. He had a nose that had been broken one too many times. There was a gash across his cheek. Just one, marring his oddly pristine complexion. The gash trailed across his face and over his nose. The nose that had been broken one too many times.

Locus watched as Sarge opened his mouth and said one simple sentence to Agent Washington. Locus could read his lips now. So he did.

"I can't lose my team. You know that."

Locus smirked. He watched in silence as Sarge stooped to pick up his helmet and shoved it back on his head. He watched in silence as Sarge payed no mind to the feathery crack across his visor. He watched in silence as Sarge headed for the door. He watched in silence as Sarge stopped right by his table and turned back to Agent Washington.

"We're going to get them tomorrow." Locus heard him loud and clear. There was finality in his tone and not even a freelancer could argue. Locus didn't watch him walk the rest of the way to the door. He was too focused on Sarge's stature, his tone. He liked the authority this man possessed. Even if it was for the sake of his 'friends'.

* * *

 

Sarge didn't realize this was the first time he'd seen Sam helmetless until he took it off and made eye contact.

Sarge thought he would have remembered those eyes. They were gray like storm clouds. Like the storm clouds on Earth. In the dim light of Red Base, he could just make out the hints of apprehension creeping into his gaze. Sam turned his head and just like that there was water in his lungs and Sarge had to cough lest he choke and die.

But he didn't want to ruin the moment. He didn't want to stop admiring the broad nose and faded scar. The eyes like true storm clouds and the shadow of a smile that showed itself once Sarge had dragged himself back to reality from his coughing fit. That shadow of a smile that he thought might disappear in different light.

Sam gave him a meaningful look. A silent question, asking if he was okay. Sarge nodded. The secretive glances and whispered comments at the table was enough to prompt him to speak. Anything to potentially draw attention away from the tall man who didn't know if he should sit down yet.

"You're quite the looker, Samuel. And everyone knows the Reds are more good-looking," Sarge blurted out. He couldn't have been cheesier if he had followed with a wink. Thankfully, Sam didn't seem to care. He finally decided to sit down and try to eat something.

* * *

 

Sarge sat on the roof of Red Base and let the cool night air rush past him. The moonlight had startled him at first. He was already _on_  a moon.

It turned out, Chorus had two, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they were called. He heard the footsteps well before he saw Sam sit down next to him. He was helmetless, out of armor. Sarge snuck a glance over at him.

Sam was looking out at the lake where the moonlight was reflecting off the surface of the water and sending silver light all around. "What brings you up here? It's the middle of the night." Sarge watched the lake too, focusing on the subtle waves and ripples. Sam sighed. "I couldn't sleep. I needed some fresh air."

Sarge nodded sagely. "I know how that gets. Same reason I'm up here now." He turned his head skyward and stared up at the stars. There were so many up there. It reminded him of Blood Gulch. He used to sit up on the roof and stargaze way back then too. "Samuel? Do you know the names of the moons?" He asked.

His voice was hushed, as if his voice would disturb the stars. Sam nodded. "Refrain and Reprise." He pointed up to the small rock above them. "That one is Refrain. It's uninhabited. Barren and tidally locked, like the moon of Earth."

Sarge grunted. "I thought they had some clever music names," he laughed. "I'm getting forgetful. My mind's betraying my age, I tell you." Sam's eyebrow quirked up. "How old _are_  you, if you don't mind my asking. Grif has been no help, he insists you're eighty-three." Sarge smiled. "And you don't think so?"

Sam shook his head. "Of course not. I believe you are a... Silver fox." He looked back up at the stars, no doubt to avoid having to look at Sarge.

"You flatter me, Samuel. I'm actually only forty-five. I guess I am a silver fox of sorts." Sarge elbowed Sam good-naturedly. Sam still didn't look down. He kept his eyes on the stars. "You're only six years older than I am," he muttered. Sarge smiled. "What do you know?" he mused, following Sam's gaze. "The stars sure are pretty, eh? I used to watch them every night back in Blood Gulch. Then we all got caught up in Project Freelancer and well... I didn't get as many chances to do it."  Sam shivered as a breeze rushed past them. He regretted wearing a short sleeve shirt now.

Sarge continued talking. "And then we landed here- well, on Chorus- and we got swept up with civil war and you and your partner and I almost forgot they were even up there. I was too busy keeping my men alive on the ground I couldn't spare a glance up to the sky." He looked over and saw Sam with his arms wrapped around himself. "You cold, Sam? You should get back inside."

Sam shook his head. "I'd rather stay out here. With you." His words echoed in the silence. The sparse trees were shaken by a gust of wind, the lake rippled and warped. Sarge clapped him on the shoulder and kept him arm there in a half-embrace. "Heh. Good man," he said.

The two sat there until they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer. The moon shed pale silver light over them both as they stumbled back to bed.

* * *

 

Sam sat in the sand, bent over with laughter. When he laughed, he roared. It was like happy thunder everywhere.

By the time he and Sarge managed to settle down, neither of them could remember what they were laughing about. All they knew was that Grif was the butt of the joke and Sarge was buried up to his neck in the sand. That alone was enough to send all of Red Team back into a fit of giggles.

They stayed out on the beach until the star began to set. Blue Team had long since left and Lopez had gone back with Donut to clean all the sand out of... Everywhere. Grif and Simmons had taken the canoe out on the water and Sarge was sitting on his towel brushing sand out of his hair.

"Funny how we keep ending up alone, huh?" He commented casually. Sam diverted his attention from the patterns he was making in the sand. "Is it?" he asked. Sarge simply shrugged. "If you want it to be." He stared out over the water. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time." Sam nodded. "I haven't laughed like that since I was still on Earth."

Sarge looked over at him. The starset made his eyes look like fire. He was helmetless, defenseless, open to the world but his eyes looked like fire. Sam continued to make patterns in the sand. "I was holding my partner's baby girl." He smiled sadly. "She has a great father." Sarge cocked his head. "Partner? You mean partner or _partner_?" he asked, putting emphasis on the last.

Sam shook his head. "Not like that. He was my partner like Felix was. Or no, not like that either. We- we worked together. He worked with Felix and me. A long time ago." The star dipped below the horizon and darkened the sky.

"Well, there'll be plenty more times for you to laugh like that. I'll make sure of it." And Sarge stood, brushed the last bits of sand off his legs and looked towards the base. "Come on in when you're ready. We're having Simmons' signature chicken Alfredo. Or, whatever it is Chorus has that tastes like chicken." Sarge shrugged and began to make his way back towards the base.

* * *

 

Sarge woke up in the morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of Donut's voice. His instincts told him something was off, so he hurried out of his room and into the kitchen where he came face to face with a grimacing Sam and two fresh cups of coffee on the table.

Donut was trying to braid Sam's hair. "Oh hi, Sarge! Good morning. Sam made you some coffee." He continued to pull Sam's hair every which way. It was painful to watch. He stalked over and swatted Donut's hands away. "Donut, learn how to braid rope before you mangle Samuel's nice hair." Donut looked disappointed.

Grif joined them, Simmons trailing behind him, and got in on the conversation. "No really, you can't braid for shit, Donut." Donut threw his hands in the air. "Well that's because none of you would let me practice on you! Grif is the only one who's hair is long enough but his is so full of knots I'd be spending all day trying to untangle it!" Donut huffed and stormed out of the kitchen.

Sarge payed him little mind other than reminding himself to give Donut some rope later.

Actually, on second thought, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

Sarge smoothed out Sam's long hair and started over, dividing it into three even groups. "Why in sam hell did you let him do that?" he demanded. Heh. _Sam_  hell. Sam looked just the slightest bit remorseful. "He said he wanted to." Grif looked over at him, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Donut can be convincing when he needs to," Sam said defensively.

Sarge was slowly weaving Sam's hair into a thick braid. He kind of wished they had flowers to put in it. That would look nice. It might help Sam look less intimidating too. Grif's yawned widely and made a grab for the coffee cup. Sam swatted his hand away. "Oh, Kai's visiting today. She said she wants to go to the flower fields up on the cliffs," Grif mentioned between yawns and attempts to grab the coffee. Simmons must have been more awake than Grif. "Oh, you haven't been to the fields yet, have you Sam?" he asked while fishing a box of cereal from the cabinet. Sam shook his head slowly, as to not disturb Sarge's perfect braid.

Simmons nodded. "Then you have to go with Kai. It's beautiful up there. The idea place for _someone to propose_  or something." He shot a glare at Grif, who returned it with precision. "Well, _someone_  wouldn't have to propose if _someone else_  wasn't so sappy and formal," he said through gritted teeth. Simmons gasped. "Well it was _someone's_  idea in the first place to get married! You can't drop that question and then not follow through!"

Sarge sighed. "Let's get," he muttered, taking his coffee and leading Sam down the hall. "I couldn't find a hair tie, so we'll have to improvise," he said, opening the door to his room and going inside. Sam stayed at the doorway, watching as Sarge sifted through his drawers and eventually pulled out a bright red ribbon. He held it up triumphantly and motioned for Sam to turn around. He did.

Sarge tried off his braid with Sam's new team color. It felt like a formal sort of inauguration, even if Sam was borrowing clothes by this point, so he wore mostly red anyways. "Now, let's get ready to go to the fields," Sarge said. He patted Sam on the back and headed out to find his armor. After all, it still wasn't safe to go up on a wide open cliff on a moon of a planet full of people with guns if you didn't have armor.

Kaikaina Grif showed up not long after Sam got suited up. She landed in a pelican and brought the resupply drop with her. She had a camera. Apparently, the lieutenants on Chorus wanted pictures of their captains. And Kai wanted pictures of the flowers. She made a beeline for Grif instantly, dragging him into a bearhug. Sam watched as she rambled on about what was new on Chorus.

Their walk up to the flower fields was surprisingly exhausting, but it was worth it. Once they made it to the top, Red Team had a glorious view of the two bases, their peaceful lake, the mountains in the distance and all around them were thousands of small flowers, blue, purple, pink, yellow. Sam couldn't remember the last time he was in a field of flowers. Chorus didn't exactly have so many, especially near the war zones.

He eased himself down to the ground and watched the rest of Red Team from afar. The flowers came up to his chest and brushed against his armor, leaving tiny smears of pollen behind. Sam took off his helmet. He couldn't smell the flowers with it on, and it was a beautiful day. His hair was still in the immaculate braid tied with the red ribbon. Sam breathed in the rich pale scent of the flowers and spotted Kai walking towards him.

She sat down next to him with the camera around her neck and a huge bundle of flowers in her arms. "Hey Sam. How are you liking Red Team so far?" she asked. The flowers reached her cheeks.

Sam shrugged. "They have interesting qualities that Blue Team does not posses," he admitted. Kai smiled a bit smugly. She pulled a flower from her bundle and gently tucked it into his braid. He didn't stop her. "Yeah, it's pretty cool you're on a team with my brother."

She put another flower in his hair. Then another. And another.

"He told me he and Simmons are getting married. I was like 'finally.'" Kai glanced over to where Grif was holding Simmons princess style. They were both laughing like idiots.

Sam nodded. "I haven't known them nearly as long as you, but... I'm glad. They seem like a good match. Even if they do bicker over stupid things." Kai shrugged. "It was only a matter of time. Dex and I were talking after their epic fight with that Temple dude and he said that Simmons remembered that stupid conversation they had back in Blood Gulch." Sam raised an eyebrow.

"It was something about 'why are we here' and Simmons remembered it. Even after all this time. Dex said he fell so hard for him he broke his nose." Sam smiled.

It was true. Grif _did_  look at Simmons a special way. Kai had depleted her store of flowers and picked up her camera. "Do you mind if I take a few pics? You look hot right now." Sam shrugged. "Why not."

Sarge had wandered over and was watching in content silence as Kai directed Sam to 'tilt his head just a teeny bit more to the left'. The flowers looked very nice in his hair. He was sitting on a cliff surrounded by flowers, wearing a braid filled with them. He was helmetless and his eyes were back to being storm clouds. A faint smile graced his lips and Kai snapped picture after picture of Samuel Ortez surrounded by flowers.

Sarge came over and sat next to him. The flowers reached his neck. He let Kai take a few pictures of them both before he shooed her away and she scampered off to find Grif and Simmons. Sarge had removed his helmet too and he stared off at the distant mountains across the lake.

He glanced down and found Sam's hand resting on the ground. "You might just be the best thing that's happened to Red Team," Sarge said as he took Sam's gloved hand and laced their fingers together. Sam didn't flinch, didn't shy away from the gesture. He just smiled. A content sort of smile. It wasn't as loud as the one on the beach. A simple whisper of a smile but it was genuine.

"What about you?" Sam asked, staring at their hands. "I _am_  Red Team! I'm the Reddest Red of them all. But you... You look good in red. And you look good with flowers in your hair." Sarge smiled at him, his eyes flicking over the mass of tiny petals stuck on his head. Sam smiled wider. He plucked a yellow flower off its stem, admiring it.

"I do?" he wondered as he placed the flower behind Sarge's ear. "I'll have to ask Kai to see those pictures then," he mumbled. As they both sat there, helmetless in a field of flowers, with the bases and teams and everything else just a distant memory, there was one thing on both their minds.

Sam _did_  look good in red.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, predictable music names for the moons. Fight me.
> 
> As much as I enjoy getting kudos, I love getting comments even more!


End file.
